


A prison cell can be used in various ways, but you should knock the guards out first

by IcyLady



Category: Gintama
Genre: M/M, Not what you think, not much plot in any case, or maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyLady/pseuds/IcyLady
Summary: In which an infamous, (very) temporarily imprisoned terrorist receives an unexpected visitor in his prison cell.





	A prison cell can be used in various ways, but you should knock the guards out first

**Author's Note:**

> Are mayo stains on a uniform a valid identity proof?

**A prison cell can be used in various ways, but you should knock the guards out first**

The Shinsengumi detention facility was nearly completely empty and, in the dead of the night, completely quiet. There was only the minimum light and the black-clad figure could almost pass unnoticed. It did pass unnoticed for a long while, despite not even trying to step quietly, because the facility currently only held one prisoner, guarded by two guards.

The dark-haired man made sure that his crisp footsteps echoed. He wanted the prisoner to be aware of his approach, wanted him to sweat a bit in worry and uncertainty. He liked the little mind games sometimes: his own brand of sadism, too rarely exercised.

The sleepy guards barely glanced at him as he told them to vacate their positions, because he wanted to talk with the prisoner alone. They have very clearly been napping before he came around and they didn’t bother to wake up enough to question the weird request. And as their footsteps rushed away, he glanced inside the dim cell, pleased to see the prisoner awake and aware, watching him with undeniable surprise.

Their eyes met and he smirked. Without a word, he fished out the key and dangled it in front of his face briefly. The prisoner’s pretty, brown eyes widened some more, but he didn’t speak. Neither of them did as he opened the door and slipped inside and, before the prisoner could protest, he locked the door again. After all, the man in front of him wasn’t called Runaway Kotarou for nothing.

Dark eyes followed the motion of his hand as he slipped the key back into his pocket. Of course, getting it from there wasn’t impossible for Runaway Kotarou either, but he couldn’t quite throw it away. The aftermath would be way too embarrassing and quite difficult to explain. And the pleasure he’s get at seeing the shocked expression if he did it was not worth the trouble afterwards.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ the prisoner, the elusive Katsura Kotarou, asked. The surprise has faded from his face and was replaced by... nothing much in fact. If Katsura felt perturbed by the unusual situation he found himself in, he didn’t let it show for the moment.

He didn’t answer to the question. Instead, he looked at the other’s dishevelled appearance. It was obvious that Katsura has straightened his clothes after being thrown into the cell, but he couldn’t do anything about the traces of dirt and mud from when he had probably been pushed flat against the ground, or maybe one of the dirty, Kabuki-cho walls. He has also tried to smoothen down his hair, but it would need a washing to return to its usual, soft and silky appearance.

And of course, there was nothing Katsura could have done about the scratches and bruising on his cheek, although he has wiped most of the dirt from it, probably with the sleeve of his haori. The first captain Okita must have been overly happy when he caught the man. He could just imagine how the little sadist pushed Katsura’s pale, pretty face against the ground/wall, gloating as he retrieved the handcuffs.

It was perfect. It was exactly how he wanted to see that usually so impeccably pristine man. It was why he had risked coming here. He was barely aware that he licked his lips. The prisoner in front of him took half a step back and a flash of weariness shone in his eyes briefly. How absolutely perfect, he thought hungrily.

‘Your uniform has mayonnaise stains on it,’ Katsura finally spoke, in that calm, toneless voice of his. It shattered the tense atmosphere irrevocably.

‘Your yukata has dirt stains on it,’ he countered immediately, irritated that this was all Katsura had to say in such a situation.

‘You’re wearing a wig,’ that followed was even worse than the first comment and he wondered if it was truly impossible for the damned idiot to follow through with any of his fantasies correctly.

‘And so? Are you jealous you’re not the only wig-head anymore?’ he snapped, letting his irritation ring clear in his tone.

‘Gintoki,’ the prisoner started wearily, but he wasn’t going to let him finish whatever complaint he wanted to utter. After all, they didn’t have a lot of time, did they? It was only a matter of time before Mayora found out his uniform was missing, or the sleepy guards stumbled upon the real vice-commander, or any other officer in fact, and raised hell.

‘It is Officer Gintoki to you, prisoner number 69,’ he said firmly. Even in the dim light from the corridor he could see the violent blush that coloured Katsura’s cheeks and he felt some satisfaction at the situation return.

‘What’s with that number?’ Katsura asked and there was the tiniest of stutters in his voice now. A slow, wicked smile twisted Gintoki’s lips. Katsura repeated his name wearily. He backed up a step for each step Gintoki took forward.

He could only escape so far, however, before his back collided with the prison cell’s far wall. Gintoki’s smile widened when Katsura uttered a small sound, somewhere between surprise and fear. Much better than his stupid comments, Gintoki thought. He continued his predatory advance in measured steps, red, narrowed eyes never leaving Katsura’s brown, wide ones.

‘Stop this, Gintoki,’ Katsura tried again. He glanced around, as though looking for an escape way and Gintoki had no idea whether he was playing along or really thinking to escape.

‘Officer Gintoki,’ he growled and Katsura’s gaze snapped back to him, eyes widening even more. Right then, Gintoki took the last step that brought him so close to the prisoner their bodies were nearly touching. He placed his palms flat on the wall, on either side of Katsura’s head, trapping the shorter man, enjoying the dawning comprehension in his expression.

‘O-officer Gintoki,’ Katsura repeated with a stutter. He licked his lips nervously. ‘You can’t seriously be thinking what I think you are,’ he added. Gintoki ground his hips into Katsura’s and the latter swallowed thickly.

‘And what might you be thinking, prisoner?’ Gintoki purred.

‘That you’re out of your mind,’ Katsura snapped, but with less conviction than Gintoki would normally expect, which was a good sign. Nevertheless, he moved his hands up, most likely to put them against Gintoki’s chest and push him away, but Gintoki was faster. He grabbed Katsura’s wrists firmly and forced his hands to the sides, against the wall. And when the shorter man tried to struggle, he pressed his body closer, trapping Katsura’s against the wall.

‘The more you struggle, the longer it will take, the more probability we will get discovered,’ he breathed into Katsura’s ear. It was not quite a gasp he was awarded with, but it was close enough and Gintoki knew that, despite what the other vehemently claimed, they both enjoyed the thrill of danger. He bit gently on Katsura’s earlobe and Katsura bit down on a moan that wanted out of his throat.

He had to move away slightly, to be able to lean his head to Katsura’s neck, but the temporary, Shinsengumi prisoner didn’t struggle for freedom anymore. And when Gintoki let go of one of his wrists, instead of using his hand to push him away, Katsura wrapped his arm around Gintoki’s waist and pressed their hips closer together. Gintoki hummed in approval, his lips and tongue steadily moving up Katsura’s neck.

When their lips met in a kiss it was searing hot and passionate. Gintoki moaned into Katsura’s mouth. He released Katsura’s other wrist in favour of fisting both hands in the messed up hair, tilting Katsura’s head just so. Their lips separated for only as long as it took Katsura to nibble on Gintoki’s lower lip, before Gintoki pressed in for another, long kiss. Katsura’s hands roamed his body, searching for the openings in the unfamiliar uniform.

‘Eager now, are we, Zura?’ he mocked, panting slightly, when they inevitably had to come up for air. Brown eyes looked at him: intense, focused and darkened with desire, the pretty face set in a determined expression.

‘It’s not Zura, it’s prisoner-’ he hesitated. ‘Number 66,’ he half-asked, half-stated. Gintoki heard his blood whoosh in his ears at the implied invitation. It was much better than the blowjob he had been hoping for. And he decided that the foreplay is over. With a swift move, he turned the other around and pressed him against the wall with his body. Katsura hissed when his face made contact with the wall and Gintoki too late remembered the bruising on his cheek.

‘Ah, sorry-’

‘You’re surprisingly considerate, officer,’ Katsura mocked in a condescending tone Gintoki knew very well. It was the tone he used to address the real Shinsengumi officers. Ah hell, he forgot that once Zura did get into something he went in the whole way.

Instead of answering, he fisted one hand in Katsura’s hair and pulled his head so that he could meet the delicious lips in another deep, passionate kiss. With his other hand, he started gathering the dark blue yukata to pull it up. Katsura braced himself against the wall and a thought flashed through Gintoki's brain.

Letting go of Katsura’s hair, he fiddled with the strappings of his belt blindly and pulled out the handcuffs: two could play the game. Hearing what must have been an awfully familiar, metallic sound, Katsura stiffened. He pulled away from the kiss and looked at Gintoki with the expression that said “are you serious?”

‘Chickening out?’ he taunted and jiggled the handcuffs. Katsura said nothing and let him take one of his hands but, just as Gintoki was going to snap the handcuff closed around his wrist, he struggled against it. And Gintoki wasn’t so much into the little game to continue despite the obvious discomfort of his partner. Of course, that destroyed the illusion. ‘Trust me a bit, will ya?’ he growled, annoyed that the mood was gone again.

‘It’s not this you idiot, don’t you hear?’ Katsura hissed back. Something in his tone made Gintoki’s blood freeze and, forgetting about what he wanted, he listened. And he heard.

‘How the hell is that possible?’ asked an angry voice somewhere in the direction of the entrance to the building. It was barely audible, but Gintoki paled as he recognized it anyway: the real vice-commander was coming. And he would not be amused, oh no.

Immediately, Gintoki let go of Katsura and patted his pockets in search for the key. Why the hell did he close the door in the first place, damn it? He put his hands into the trouser pockets, where he was sure he has put the key, but there was just a small bottle of lube he took just in case.

He nearly missed the key in question being dangled in front of his eyes. Anyway, Katsura didn’t spend a lot of time doing it: before Gintoki registered that the damned terrorist snatched the key out of his pocket, Katsura was already opening the lock with more ease than Gintoki knew he would, in the stressful situation. He would have growled his complaints at the other if it wasn’t so important to keep quiet.

The door opened, Katsura glanced at him for just long enough to mouth “follow me” and slipped out of the cell. Gintoki rushed to follow. Determined to not be heard, he nearly walked into the shorter man, who stopped some hundred meters away from the cell door. Fast footsteps were coming their way.

Without a word, Katsura grabbed the bars of another cell, propped his foot on the horizontal bar and pushed himself upwards. And Gintoki followed without understanding, because if there was one person in the world whom he trusted implicitly and completely it was Zura.

They barely had the time to haul themselves up on the support beams of the roof and try to hide from open view, before the demonic vice-commander of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata Toushirou stopped in front of the open cell door. He pivoted around towards the two guards who have followed him and they skidded to an abrupt halt. In other circumstances, Gintoki would have laughed, because they looked ready to lock themselves in the cell if only to be separated by something solid from the furious officer.

‘Of course, it’s empty by now,’ Hijikata growled. ‘How could you let anybody alone with Katsura?’ he demanded. The guards cowered.

‘We thought he was you,’ one of them said and took a step back as Hijikata focused what must have been a blazing furious glare at him. Gintoki glanced at Katsura, wondering if the other was enjoying this as much as he was: Katsura wasn’t even looking! He was hiding from view completely and Gintoki rolled his eyes, thinking that his friend and occasional lover didn’t know how to have fun in life.

‘He had the same hair, he had your uniform, there were even mayo stains on it,’ the other guard rushed to the rescue of his comrade. Gintoki had to bite his lip to not burst out laughing.

‘Is this what you recognize me by?’ Hijikata yelled furiously. The guards took another step back. They looked ready to run away, but Hijikata straightened his back and cleared his throat. ‘I’m sure Okita will be thrilled to learn that his effort in catching Katsura has been wasted,’ he said coolly.

The faces of both guards went paper-white.

‘Maybe they haven’t gone too far,’ Hijikata continued, but Gintoki heard the doubt in his tone. They both knew that, if he had been freed so long ago, Katsura would have been very, very far away. ‘We cannot give up without trying anyway. Send everybody to search,’ he ordered and the guards scrambled away. Hijikata moved to leave as well and then froze. Gintoki felt a drop of sweat roll down his back. He regretted not following Katsura’s example till the end: if that demon looked up just now-

Hijikata walked into the cell and out of Gintoki’s field of vision. Moments later, he heard the familiar jingle of handcuffs and his eyes widened. Has he dropped them? In the ensuing silence, Gintoki could swear everybody in one mile radius should be able to hear his thumping heart. What would Hijikata-

The vice-commander stormed out of the cell and down the corridor without a word, but for the split of second that Gintoki could see his face he realized that the man was livid. There were only the handcuffs, right? He hasn’t accidentally dropped the lube as well, when he was searching for the key, has he?

As the sound of the footsteps faded away, Gintoki looked at Katsura. This time the terrorist was looking at him and Gintoki had to stifle an appreciative sigh. Katsura’s lips were slightly swollen from the kissing, his cheeks still coloured with a blush, his clothes dishevelled in evidence of what they have been up to moments ago. Belying his impassive face, his dark eyes were shining with desire.

‘I want to fuck you now,’ Gintoki breathed out. Katsura’s eyes widened.

‘Here?’ he asked incredulously. Gintoki nodded towards the cell. ‘After what has happened just now?’

‘They’re all out there looking for us, prisoner 66,’ he purred out the “nickname” and watched how Katsura swallowed thickly. He let the corner of his lips turn up in a triumphal smirk.

And only much later, when he was laying on his futon, relaxed and satisfied, Gintoki thought that maybe they should not have left the door to the cell closed, with the key inside. Hijikata wouldn’t have likely forgotten that it has been open.

Ah well, he would have to hope that the Shinsengumi won’t catch on, on Katsura’s escape tactics.


End file.
